a collection of drabbles
by fightfortherightsofhouseelves
Summary: A collection of drabbles, mostly featuring Harry and Ginny (but with magical little sparks of Romione and Bill&Fleur here and there), in various moments throughout their lives. Because there are times in life which can make you or break you, but they have an understanding that they will tame fate together, come what may.
1. helooksatherandseestherestofhislife

Drabble#1: **He looks at her and sees the rest of his life**

with a sparkle of Valentine's spirit

* * *

He looks at her and sees the rest of his life. Indeed, he's quite young to want to settle down, but he's had enough diversity in the last eighteen years to be utterly and completely sick of it. He does not care for the cruelties of fate anymore; he counts the seconds until she nestles in his arms again, the pause between one and the next with the times their fingers lace together and the unbearable moments they do not.

He rubs a calloused thumb softly against her bruised knuckles, another trophy of her recent Quidditch practice. She's been giving it her all, his Ginny, and he's confident she'll make the team by the end of the year. There is strength in her, flowing from her posture, from the wrinkles of her being. She can do whatever she sets her mind to, whatever she pleases. He notices that her dainty, soothing hands are gently bathed in freckles, and somehow he feels a slash of pain in his heart and the need to kiss the blisters of those hands, to worship those two unwearied hands that nursed him back to sanity. Oh, she'd been relentless, dragging him with all her might from the horrors of his own troubled mind. She's always known how to close the distance between their jaded hearts.

He watches the sun carresing her long red tresses and knows she's created an eternal home inside his heart. She's wearing lipstick today, in honour of the occasion. He acknowledges it is solely for his benefit and his chest swells with pride. He finds solace and a feeling of being at ease with the world hidden in the delicate arch of her lips. His gaze traces the contours of her upper lip, of the slight curving in the shape of a heart and knows he'd rather face death again than renounce the privilege of ravishing her impishly smart mouth. He prays that fate will be kind enough to grant them the joy, the bliss of turning forever together, two wandering souls safe from the madness of the world.

A blazing spark enshrouds her deep chocolate eyes. He smiles at the back of his mind, wondering what mischief and mayhem still lays ahead of them. She likes a laugh, she does, and Harry wholeheartedly volunteers to be the one to make her laugh, to witness those pearly white teeth reveal as her head leans back and her shoulders shake.

He marvels at the sense of completeness spending hours on end with her in this small café gives him. Truth be told, he'd have been eager to spend Valentine's with her on the other side of the Earth, if that was what she desired. He'd have walked with her all the way, and all the way he'd have held her hand in an everlasting grip, just to ensure they would never lose each other again. He feels his eyebrows draw closer at this infuriating thought and a crease forming between them.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Ginny asks, her smile aloof. He has that funny glint in his eyes, Harry. "Is there something on my face?" She begins to feel self-conscious, his intense stare painting her freckled cheeks pink.

"Yeah," he grins. "Me," Harry leans over the small round table of the overcrowded coffee shop and kisses her firmly at first, then tenderly. He couldn't care less that so many people became spectators to their intimate moment; he'd happily drown in their kiss, spend days exploring every inch of her mouth, brushing mercilessly over her swollen lips until she could take it no more.

In the inbetweens of his life, there had always been Ginny, you see. Always there, unyielding, fighting the ripples and the waves of grief and searing pain, pulling him to the surface. She'd found enough beauty in the cracks of his soul to stand close, helped him carry the remains of someone he used to be and part with them serenely. As sudden as feathers's swish in flight, he realises that this life he is living, the rights nows and tear-stained moments, this life somehow became the story he's forever wanted to tell.

Yes, he looks at her and sees the rest of his life.


	2. here's to the new year

Drabble#2: **Here's to the New Year**

with a spark of new year's resolutions

* * *

 _Three…two…one! Happy New Year!_

Harry and Ginny heard the clatter of half-excited, half-tired voices coming from the valley where the Burrow had always been hidden. Cold chills and icy breathing was all that surrounded them, as they hovered over the frozen countryside hills. Ginny's old broomstick took them away from the commotion, in an attempt to steady their thoughts. It had been a terrible year. A vile decade, in fact. They were some of the last ones standing.

"Make a wish," Ginny broke the silence.

"What?" Harry asked, caught off guard on a lingering thought.

"You have to make a wish. Choose your words right because it might just come true," she further explained. They hit the Comet's brakes and paused, allowing themselves space to think, to remember, to find the strength to carry on.

"I wish to never see war again…," the young witch added in half a whisper. The hands that until then only held her for balance tightened around her waist, in reassurance.

"And I wish to never lose another person I love…," he said, casting his own wish into the night sky, feeling her hands clasp against his own. The horizon was magically illuminated with every possible color. Graceful creatures were twirling about, diving through the stars. The last products of 1998 trademarked Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had been a masterpiece.

"I wish to never be forced to leave you again," Harry heard the words escape his mouth before he could bite them back.

"Is that more than you want me to make of it?" the redhead asked. She was wearing an amused expression on her face, as she turned her head to look at him, her eyes twinkling.

"Maybe let's just wait and see," Harry shrugged, grinning slightly.

"You're absolutely mad," Ginny laughed whole-heartedly, spinning around on her broom so she could face him. _Yes, 1999 holds all the promises of a good year_ , _a better year,_ she thought to herself while analyzing his features, taking in the way his jaw fixed in a signal that he had set his mind on a particular something.

Up in the air they lost themselves in a dazing kiss, two fatigued soldiers of a terrible, scarring war.


	3. which one's which

"Grab the portkey, quick!" Harry gestured towards Ron, shuffling his feet as fast as he could. The old, deflated ball was glowing an intense shade of green, signaling that they had mere seconds before they missed their ride home. The Aurors had spent their last month in trenches, sweat and self-loathing, thus rendering the prospect of being further deprived of the warm embrace of their wives completely and utterly infuriating.

"Which one's which?" Ron switched his attention to a nice black stiletto shoe on the ground, seeming as though it belonged to a Cinderella of the night.

"I'm positive Robards said the ball was mine," Harry responded, attempting a wild jump and stretching as far as he could to reach the glowing object. His best friend nodded and caught on to the stiletto for dear life.

In the blink of an eye, they were gone, swirling and whirling on their way to their respective houses.

Ron Weasley landed with bang, nearly gaining a concussion in the process of pealing himself off the kitchen floor. The portkey had thrown him almost underneath the table, forcing the redhead to crawl in order to avoid an unhealthy contact between the top of his head and the hard material.

"Huh, this is odd," he thought, squinting his eyes as he tried discerning the objects around him. "I reckon the kitchen did not look this way before I left. Hermione must have redecorated in my absence. Bless her soul, she must have missed me," Ron smiled to himself, thinking of his wife fussing around, trying to surprise him. He climbed the steps to their bedroom, smirking and imagining just how he'd like to thank her for her little caring gestures.

Stripping down his dirty clothes, his socks, and opening the door with a swing of his buttocks, Ron took in the form lightly sleeping underneath the covers.

"Honey, I'm home," he said in his sultriest of tones, spinning around as he pulled off his underpants in what he considered to be a sexy dance. Unfortunately, the beneficiary of this hot number did not bother to wake up, which did nothing to kill the young man's buzz. It's not everyday that a husband returns to his wife after a deadly and month-long mission, you see.

Ron jumped on top of the mattress and languorously crawled on all fours, bare as the day he was born, to the place where the petite figure was resting. Drawing away the cover only slightly, he closed his eyes and lowered his head to plant the most passionate kiss he was capable of. A shriek, followed by a hard slap across the face, made his eyelids open wide and the rest of his body nearly fall off the king-sized bed.

"Bloody hell, woman! It's only me, your loving husband!" He said, most offended, rubbing intensely at his throbbing left cheek.

"Ewewewewewewewewewewew, _EW_!" a voice that he was positive did _not_ belong to Hermione answered his complaints.

Feeling his heart stop for a moment, he suddenly became more aware of his surroundings. He certainly was not within the coziness of his own bedroom, but inside Harry's. And the woman he'd tried to woo into having hot steamy sex with him only a few seconds earlier was definitely _not_ Hermione, but his own damn sister. And she was staring at him, sprawled on the floor in just his skin, the expression on her face promising a painful farewell to world of the living.

In another part of England, Hermione's scream woke the dead on a hundred kilometer radius, as a naked Harry stood hiding in a corner, frightened out of his wits and silently vowing to never trust his instincts and memory again.

* * *

let's chat endlessly on tumblr: fightfortherightsofhouseelves


	4. big brother

"You really do care about him, don't you?" Bill Weasley whispered and put an arm around his little sister's shaking shoulders.

She did, oh how much she did. Hard as it was to admit it these days, she was so in love with him it hurt. And the hurt and despair only got harder to carry around as the days passed and nobody knew anything about him, if he was alive or barely breathing. Except that her older brother, the person she trusted and looked up to more than anyone else, he now knew where Harry was and what he was doing and how he was feeling and even how his stupid hair used to look today, while she was locked inside this house with no way to escape. She'd give anything to swap places with Bill and be able to look him in the eye and trace her fingers through his raven dark hair just one more time. Just one more bloody time before she could allow herself to think of letting go.

Bill brought her closer to his chest and rested his chin on top of her head, just like he used to do when Ginny was a child. She never showed her weaknesses in front of anyone, but she felt she could always let Bill see her true colors.

The young witch felt something break inside her at the familiarity of her brother's arms around her and she let go of the wave or tears and sadness that she'd carried in her soul all year long. She cried until she felt numb, she screamed until her throat was sore, clutching at his shirt. When there were no more tears to cry, Ginny collapsed on the floor and sat still, not a thought or feeling spared to hunt her.

Bill crouched down next to her, lightly running his knuckles in circles on her back. He could understand the pain and heartbreak his baby sister was going through - he would have gone insane if it'd been Fleur instead of Harry. But he could also feel anger and rage boiling inside his mind, imagining how he'd twist the boy's neck for making her ache so. Bill sighed and tied his hair into a ponytail, something he did when he felt nervous and frustrated.

"I'm sorry, Ginny…," he started, but she made a noise that clearly told him she did not want to be pitied.

"You know, I've always admired how tough you are. Even as a child, you were incredible and I knew you could get through anything if you put your mind to it," Bill began and waited to see if he could continue. "Until one summer when you met Harry Potter and I knew, I just knew it would be the one thing you'd never get over," he added, drops of sadness in his voice. "And I watched you that summer, at the World Cup and after, you were positively head over heels," Bill smiled for a second before the crease between his ginger eyebrows returned. "I knew you would end up together - what blistering idiot would ever say no to you?" Ginny snorted through her tears. "And that's when I started being truly afraid because I knew who he really was and what that would mean for you." Bill paused, gathering his thoughts. "That, Ginny, is why I am sorry: because I just stood and didn't do anything to prevent you battling all this pain and misery on your own," he finally said, feeling his chest swell with pain.

Ginny turned to face him, a fierce and hard expression on her face. "I'd never give up on him," she pressed on every word. "Never," she punctuated, pushing her long red hair out of her eyes. "I love him," her chocolate orbs closed and she couldn't hold her brother's gaze any longer for fear that she might cry again.

"I know," he said and hugged her to his chest again, creating a protective shield between his little sister and the madness of the world.

Ginny cried through most of that night, but this time she had her big brother to hold her and make her feel safe, even if only for a small while.

* * *

I've always wanted to explore their relationship, as Ginny looks up to Bill and it would only be natural that he be there for her during the time she had to go into hiding and Harry was at Shell Cottage :) Exploration continues through small drabbles like this one and my Bill/Fleur multi-chapter titled "Spirit"!

If you feel like discussing the baby sister-cool big brother relationship or you have any prompts that you'd like to be turned into a fic/drabble, drop me a message on tumblr: fightfortherightsofhouseelves :)


	5. celebration preparation

"Does this make me look fat?"

"No, I've told you six times already," a bored voice floated from behind.

"Really? I think it makes my bum stand out too much, don't you reckon?"

A smack on his left butt cheek was all the answer he got, as his fiancée made her way between himself and the mirror.

"Harry, if anything, those bottoms make you look even hotter, yeah?" she bit her lip, giving him that naughty look he liked so much.

"Why can't we wear robes, though?" an exasperated cry and his hands ran through his black messy hair back and forth.

"Because," Ginny started, feeling that she was about to either lose her temper or help him out of those tight suit bottoms and have her way with him, she couldn't really decide. "That's not the dress code," she continued and her explanation was greeted with a pout.

Albeit she could admit, after several pints of a certain something, that she might've sort of bought his black suit a wee bit too tight, but a girl is entitled to have her small distractions to brighten the day. And if said distraction happened to be the sweet cheeks of her fiancé, what could she do about it?

"Be good, love," she tried softening his boyish scowl by planting a light kiss on his stubbled jaw. "And you might discover," her skilful fingers straightened his black tie, "that I," she took two steps backward to admire her work, feet stopping as they came into contact with the four poster occupying half the bedroom, "might not be wearing anything underneath," her hand motioned from her flat belly to her freckled thighs, where the dress provocatively ended.

Harry James Potter felt weak in the knees. Like a sleepwalker, he stumbled towards her, eyes on the prize and a mollified smile on his lips. But, with a sly move, she hopped to the side and avoided him, his tall form meeting the springy mattress Ginny had insisted they bought when she moved in.

"Told you," she poked him in the ribs, "you need to be good first and be my date for this boring party."

"But -,"

"And once we get back home, I'll see what I can do to make it worth your while," she cut him off firmly. Through the raven black fringes of the mess his hair had reverted to, Harry could notice she was grinning and thoroughly enjoying herself.

Jumping up with an agility worthy of his Seeker days, he circled one arm around her slim waist and lifted the redheaded young woman up one shoulder. Holding on tight, he sprinted towards the hallway and proceeded to magic his shoes on, accompanied by a fit of yells and protests from the small witch on his back.

"What are you doing, you complete loon?" she queried, half-mad, yet half-amused.

"I'm speeding this bloody thing up," Harry replied nonchalantly, "you know, so we can return faster."

His last words were lost amidst the loud _bang_ of him side-along Disapparating, with Ginny laughing hard over his shoulder, heart full of love for the madman she was soon to marry.


	6. brotherly love

He focused his attention on the gingerhaired girl, a mock replica of his teenage years, counting down the seconds till she'd fancy explaining herself. She always did talk, eventually. She functioned like a ticking bomb, Ginny, keeping silent until she exploded. So he went on staring, blinking at times and unrelentingly rapping his fingers on the armrest. He'd seen her throw tantrums since she'd learned how to walk and talk, this was nothing new.

"I'm not telling you," she scoffed, unable to control her irritation any longer.

"Mm-hmm."

Rap-rap-rap, that rhythm he was pursuing, that smug look, that all-knowing twinkle in his eye – she wanted to scream at him and maybe let the five year old raging inside her loose to pull his ponytail, like she used to years ago when he got her mad, and call it a day.

"Smile all you want, it's absolutely no use," Ginny huffed, arms crossed tightly and one annoying strand of her falling into her eyes. How can she bloody get rid of it without uncrossing her arms? Appearing less annoyed was not an option so she had to buckle up and power through it.

"Right," her older brother drawled, resting his chin on his fist and faking a yawn, as if to indicate he was slowly getting bored of her antics. Which, frankly, got under her skin more than she would've liked to admit, but now there was no turning back.

"What exactly do you see in her?" she spat, turning her head towards him so fast she slapped her own cheek with a long red lock of hair. She decided to act as if though that did not happen and keep her frown game strong.

"There it is," he grinned, straightening his back and mentally readying himself for what could easily become the first real row he ever had with his little sister.

"Why do you like her so much?" she carried on, giving no sign that she'd acknowledged his subtle mockery. "Is it because you need a bit of adventure? A pinch of drama? Some glamour in life?" the fifteen year old hissed. She felt her brother's scrutinising gaze scan her from head to toe, still she refused to feel intimidated.

"Nice blow, little sister, but allow _me_ to ask _you_ : why do you like him so much? Is it because you need a bit of adventure? A pinch of drama? Some glamour in life?"

His response came like a slap on the back of her head and he looked so pleased with himself she felt like yelling in frustration. Praying for all the control she had left, Ginny let herself collapse back into her favourite armchair, glaring at her brother for good measure.

"We're not so different, you and me, Gin. I like her because I do, there's no explaining that. Did you ever question your feelings for Harry? Bloody hell, don't give me that look, I've seen you round him. Maybe he's oblivious enough to miss it, but I saw you being born, so there's quite few secrets you can keep from me, yeah?" he leaned forward, a softer shade in his eyes.

Ginny clenched her jaw and wrinkled her nose and she did what she could not to stick her tongue out at him.

"I reckon you're not too happy having to share the room with her as you've always had your space and it appears I can't convince Mum to be more reasonable, but think of it this way: it's just a few more days and we're going back to her's and then it's over. You're free," Bill smiled.

"You live together?" now he'd gotten her attention.

"You see, it's what people do when they fall in love," he said and the expression on his face was so sweet as he mouthed the last two words, Ginny felt the tightness in her chest clear even if only a bit.

"Oh…," was all she could say. In truth, the thought of her brother actually being in love never crossed her mind. She always felt that he, you know, maybe fancied her for her looks, like any other bloke still displaying vital signs.

"Hey," the young man interrupted her internal monologue. "This doesn't change anything between us, okay? It simply makes me happier," he leaned even closer and took her hand, freckles clashing with freckles on pasty skin. She briefly nodded, finally giving in, a hard long sigh escaping her lips. Maybe she could do it, for him. For the brother that always listened to her, sat through all her role-playing games summer after summer, the one who gave her the confidence she needed to deal with life itself.

"Besides, you'll always be my favourite sister," he grinned, batting his eyelashes innocently.

Ginny instantly withdrew her hand, incensed, and jumped straight to her feet.

"I'm your _only_ sister," he heard her growl as she stomped her way up the stairs, slamming the door to her bedroom behind her. Bill just grinned and relaxed against his armchair, closing his eyes and knowing full well she'd appreciate his humour once she cooled off.

"Couldn't help yourself, huh?" Charlie's voice sounded from a place near him. "I reckon she's not ready to share you with another woman," he laughed, slouching into the freshly vacated seat. "And neither is Mum."

"They'll get over it. They're bound to see Fleur's brilliant before long," Bill shrugged.

"Honestly, mate, I doubt it," Charlie shook his head and clamped a heavy hand on his brother's shoulder, "I truly doubt it."


	7. pearl

if shell is the cottage, then their first born, their little Victoire is the pearl within :)

this one's a shortie, but hopefully you'll still enjoy!

* * *

They brought her home only three days old, a petite bundle wrapped tightly and held close to her mother's chest. They named her Victoire, a victory of the brave, a triumph of the good. She was her father's pride, her young mother's heart and soul.  
Victoire had great blue eyes and the waves at Shell Cottage reflected in them early in the morning. The sun danced in her hair, kissing her golden locks in little twirls. She grew up to the sound of the sea, her cheeks rosy in the warm weather encompassing their small home.  
On her father's knees, she'd laugh and smile and never feel a care in the world. He was her hero and nobody was more powerful and skilled than him. Her mother, she was the most beautiful woman and no queen or empress could have had a lighter walk or a more graceful posture than her.  
"Nobody will ever hurt you, my sweet pearl," Bill hummed as he lay his daughter to sleep. He thought about the battles he'd been through and about the friends he'd lost along the heavy road they had to walk. He thought about his brother and tears flooded his eyes. Hurt and loved crashed and burned inside his heart, knowing what it had cost them, as he watched his small daughter drift to sleep, as serenely as the swish of a feather in flight. She always had this soothing effect on him and soon he, too, started feeling that it was safe to sleep again. And so it will forever be.


	8. kiss kiss bang bang

Probably helping her study for her OWLs wasn't a great idea. Or maybe it was the best idea.

* * *

"Oi, flip it back!"

A snort, "Slow reader."

"I heard that, you know," he says, clasping his palms tighter around her middle, chest leaning forward onto her back, lanky feet spread to accommodate her.

"Did you actually study anything for your OWLs? You seem to find an awful lot of /new information that might have come in handy had you known it/," comes her retort as a pair of brown eyes lock with his over her shoulder, freckled jaw rubbing against the shy stubble of his own.

"Erm -"

"Yeah, figured as much."

"Having Hermione as a best friend's done things to you," Harry huffs, nose tracing the contour of her earlobe.

"Yeah? I should just go ahead then and take my studying to the library."

Harry groans.

He can practically feel Ginny smug look as she pretends to immerse herself once more between the pages of her book.

"Anyway you owe me one favour," he adds as nonchalantly as his teenage boy ego allows him.

A ginger eyebrow rises, "How so?"

"I outran you and your broom yesterday," he shrugs the most casual of shrugs.

"No, Harry, your broom outran mine. /You/ didn't." Her voice is cool, her words clipped, still those two brown eyes dance with mirth, ever ready for a challenge.

"Right. So how's it to lose, Gin?"

"Oh, I don't know," teeth sink into plump bottom lip, "seeing as I never do. You tell me."

She's got that blazing look that he adores. He could kiss her for a lifetime when she looks at him like that, kiss her till his lips turn swollen and then kiss her again.

"Would you like a rematch?" Is what finally comes out of his smart mouth.

The book's closed shut with a loud bam. "Yeah, alright, but no broom racing while I'm stuck with a bloody Comet."

"There you go making up excuses again - ouch!" Harry yelps as Ginny's elbow connects with his ribs.

"As I was saying," she harrumphs. "Fancy a pop quiz?"

"Pop quiz?"

"A-ha."

"How's me helping you revise for your OWLs considered a decent rematch?" He asks, green eyes quizzically fixing her from behind round glasses.

"No OWLS," she instructs, long red hair flipped over her shoulder as she turns to rest on her knees and face him directly. "Pay attention. "You answer all questions truthfully, you get a reward."

"Consisting of?" His fingers lightly tickle over her belly, mouth close to one small, round ear as he speaks.

"That might just depend on your answers to my questions." Devilish girl, mischievous girl.

"Then I don't get to ask questions?" Harry knows a bargain when he stumbles upon it, and this surely isn't one.

"Nope," Ginny smiles sweetly.

"How's that fair?" A pout and Ginny might just break character and snog him breathlessly right there.

"It isn't, but you'll still play," is what she actually says.

Harry's pout seems to aggravate. "Is this something you got from your brothers? Did they not let you play with them when you were kids?"

"Clock is ticking, Potter."

"Alright, alright. Shoot."

Ginny grins before commencing her little interrogation, sizing him up as if to determine how much he'll last, how far he'll go.

"When did you start having feelings for me?"

"What?"

"Should I speak louder?"

"Please don't."

"Ten seconds left."

"Alright, alright. Erm - last summer, at the Burrow. I mean I'm not completely positive, but that's when I first realised you're not, uh, Ron's little sister anymore."

"Interesting." Her tone is dry, but her eyes light up once again. She's thoroughly enjoying it.

"Is this necessary?" Harry tries to back out, but it's too late.

"Yes. Next question. You didn't say anything because you weren't sure or because I was with Dean?"

"Both at first, then just the latter. Are we done?" His voice comes out even, but his cheeks flush pink.

"No," she winks to sweeten the burn. "Did you agree with Ron's assessment of the situation when you walked in on me and Dean snogging?"

"What? Ginny - no!" He looks outraged at the very thought and she believes him.

"Good. I wasn't expecting you to." A timid smile at the corner of her lips, blended with her freckles and then disappears. "Next question: was it my imagination or were you sneaking glances during Quidditch practice?"

A snort, a roll of the eyes. "Believe me, the only way I could've been more obvious about it was if I actually started shouting my mostly inappropriate thoughts for your dear brother to hear. And the rest of the team."

She bites her lip two seconds too long for him to still feel comfortable in his pants. "Too bad you didn't, they'd've been in for quite the show. Also, mostly inappropriate, huh?"

Harry groans deeply.

"Last question: have you ever dreamed about me?"

He pretends to take his time on this one. "Let's say I'm thankful for each day any of your darling brothers decide not to pursue Legillimency," he says and maybe it's the slight whisper, maybe it's the look he's giving her or maybe it's a combination of them both that makes Ginny feel quite hot.

"That was - hmm, rather satisfactory," she evaluates, the process of breathing increasingly difficult.

"Let's see the reward then." Yes, it's definitely the look, emerald green eyes glossing over her features in a way that's completely new to her.

"Close your eyes." It comes out more like a plea than a request, but Ginny's certain that there'll be enough time for her to perfect it.

"You do like torturing me, don't you?" He smiles and complies.

Freckly finger touches his lips. "Shh, no more talking now."

When her head leans in to kiss him, it's her heart that whimpers with the sheer force it, her mind clouds fast, thoughts moulding into each other until there's just a haze. And from the haze and daze, a voice she does not know screams /Harry, Harry, Harry/ as her body turns lump beneath his palms.

There's a flame inside her that ignites for him, and like wildfire will forever burn for him.


	9. abra-abra-cadabra, iwannareachoutngrabya

**based on this prompt i received on tumblr:**

 _How about a cute hinny fic where ginny takes harry to a little underwear shop and tries some things on... maybe getting a little steamy in the fitting room..._

* * *

Burning flame, full of desire. And it's not just that song by the Steve Miller Band that's been stuck in his head on a maddening loop for the past week, but also quite painfully the way he feels as Ginny's ankles show from behind the curtain and her bare feet pad back and forth inside the fitting room.

Summoning a glimmer of a voice from deep down his dried throat, Harry asks, "Nearly done?"

"No, not quite, I'm afraid. Can't decide if it'd look better in white or black? Or pink?"

Harry has no clue or insight into what exactly his fiancee expects to find in ten centimeters worth of lacy fabric. It's all the same to him. It all goes on, then off, then on again, then hopefully they find the time to make it go off again, but since he's been working round the clock on one case after another and she's been on a winning streak with her team and yeah. Not much time for some hocus-pocus, now-you-see-it-now-you-don't. Clothes wise, that is.

"Harry?"

Apparently she'd been calling him for awhile. Women's unmentionables shops do not bode well with him, it seems. Addle the brain and whatnot.

"Harry? Could you - ah, could you help? I'm stuck."

She does sound a bit harassed and he does wish to leave as early as possible, and that's enough for Harry to disregard the "never two people in the same fitting room, please" rule. He's never been a stickler for rules anyway.

As soon as he steps in to see a half naked Ginny, all freckly and…yeah, he's hit by the sudden realisation that what might have seemed the sensible thing to do is, in reality, rather foolish. So he swallows hard.

"I know I asked you to help me get dressed, but you have that look," Ginny breathes out just as hard, her cheeks flushed pale pink.

Harry has exactly five seconds to wonder why they make see-through bras, frilly, lacy, silly things meant to taunt rather than cover. Then he decides it's not the time and that he doesn't really care who those they are and why they do things like they do.

It's pretty hard to have a brain that functions when Ginny's nipping at his jaw, nails lightly scratching at his scalp, chilled sole of her right foot teasing at his calf.

And it's absolutely impossible to form any kind of thoughts when her fingers sneak around his belt and work it loose, his trousers quickly pooling on the floor.

Their mouths meet in a heated encounter, bodies glued together and he has a mind to lift her up against the feeble wall, hold her there until their passion builds up and explodes quick and fast.

So he grabs her, lifts her up, Ginny's legs tangled round his hips, lips and tongues colliding hard and strong when -

"Ron, oh."

Followed by a cacophony of gasps and moans and what Harry and Ginny hope it's not flesh meeting flesh.

And they freeze.

Groan.

Violently curse (Ginny) and long suffering sigh in scorching sexual frustration (Harry).

"I think I've lost my appetite," Ginny concludes and she does sound genuinely distressed, much like Harry's own libido.

"What are they doing here?" Harry hisses as Ginny slides down till her feet hit the floor with a faint thud.

"Sabotaging my chances at a spectacular shag, what else?" She growls annoyed, searches for her clothes, pulls them back on.

"Nevertheless," Ginny shrugs before proceeding to slam her fists three times into the joint wall, "If I'm not getting any, neither is my dear brother."

Before Harry has a chance to stop her, she pounds on the wall twice more.

"Oi, the poster says you're not allowed to be two inside the fitting room!"

Harry must admire Ginny's imitation skills, as he could've easily been tricked into believing that a carbon copy of Professor McGonagall was chastising his best friends and not his fiancee if he did not see his redheaded firecracker standing there in the flesh, frowning and fuming.

The adjoining fitting room goes completely silent and Harry can see Ginny reveling in her slight victory (even though actually following through with their brief yet hot encounter would have counted as the veritable victory to him).

An explosion of hushed banter arises and something that sounds like somebody tripped or maybe was pushed outside, hisses and curses galore.

The commotion dies down quickly, clipped steps departing at the speed of light.

"Happy?" An ebony eyebrow raises in question, grin askew and bemused.

"No. But I'm pretty positive I'll be once we're home," she winks, mischief sparkling in her eyes as she grabs his hand and tugs him right outside, all three pairs of dainty lingerie gripped tightly in her fist.

"Yes, ma'am."


End file.
